A Place to Stay

by Jennie Jones

  ‘They’re part of the team of builders out at the museum,’ he told Solomon. ‘Got a bit wild, all calm now. So you can tell Tani it’s sorted.’

  ‘It’s one man.’

  ‘Solomon—I’ve got a hundred guys wanting to pay me back.’

  ‘And all it takes is one. Keep your eyes peeled. I’ll do the same.’

  ‘Copy that.’ Luke accepted his friend’s advice but he had other things on his mind, more important than any offender he’d pissed off over the last fourteen years, but he wasn’t going to talk to anyone about his feelings and his concerns for Rachel. ‘So what about the hired help?’ he asked, getting off the subject of his worries. Solomon didn’t need to work for a living. Luke guessed he’d have an army pension and savings. Rumour was he’d got a hefty pay out from a three-month gaming stint two years earlier. Not that Luke wanted to know where or why, in case it wasn’t quite on the right side of legal.

  Solomon smiled. ‘I’ve got young Billy Baxter in mind to help out.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘He’s good with horses, believe it or not. They understand him. Not that Billy knows this yet. And he’s not much use as a farmer. I spoke to his parents. They’re for it.’

  ‘I saw him earlier this morning. Nabbed him just before he stole some girl’s purse. He didn’t mention this.’

  Solomon shrugged. ‘I caught him hanging around the stables a few days back. Made him work for a couple of hours. He enjoyed himself. Not that he said so.’

  But Solomon could read people, and Luke wasn’t going to question the judgement. Billy didn’t stand much of a chance if he stayed out here, and the kid had no option. He shook Solomon’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ he said, looking Solomon in the eye, wanting to show his appreciation in case others forgot to do so.

  Solomon went back to shovelling woodchip and Luke got into the wagon, his mind humming. He had to stay objective—intuition was one thing but that was only a means to discover facts. Was someone after Rachel? Was that what Tani was sensing? Not Luke, but Rachel/Rebecca?

  He checked his mobile. Still nothing from Jack.

  * * *

  Mid-afternoon Rachel came out of the newsagents after handing over the shire’s mail for the post run.

  The sun was bright, the air hot without a breeze. Her eyes stung—with unshed tears, of all things. She hadn’t cried in years. What was the point? Tears wouldn’t fix what had happened or cure hurts. But it was time to review her plan. Would she have to leave? Everything she’d put in place for herself was unravelling. Not that she wanted to leave but after she’d blurted out that she was changing her name, Luke had turned cop immediately. Suspicion over concern. Guilty until proven innocent. Or that’s what it had felt like. Neither did she want to feel the backlash of gossip and speculation—it would hit her harder this time because she’d thought she’d found a place to stay.

  Peter would be up on Luke’s database. He was a wanted criminal, although Luke wouldn’t associate Peter Fletcher with Rachel—unless he’d run a check and found her sordid history. She might be on his database too, but as Rosalind Fletcher and Rebecca Smithfield. Not as Rachel Meade.

  If there came a time where she thought Peter had found her or might be around, she’d be gone in a heartbeat. There was no way she’d put the people of Mt Maria in harm’s way. In the back of her mind a sensible voice told her she ought to tell Luke everything, but she didn’t want to see the disgust or mistrust in his eyes. She’d told so many lies. If she was forced to leave, she’d go to the police but not here. She’d go back to Perth or maybe even Melbourne, where she’d had so much to do with the Domestic Violence team.

  She’d suffer the consequences of any criminal offence they’d decide she’d committed three months ago too, although surely, in those circumstances, anyone would have done the same thing?

  This sudden worry about her lies and what Luke might discover had made her think about what Peter had said, really think about what had happened in that alley. She’d heard the words many times, and she knew he was capable of seeing his threats through.

  She stopped at the post boxes and took her key out. She only ever received bank statements and the like but she checked the box regularly. She’d saved a considerable amount over the years; one day she’d have enough to put a decent deposit on a place. Pointless hoping it might be the Laurensen place now even though Mt Maria had almost become home. In one short month she’d had more golden opportunities than in the previous ten years of her life. The chance of a home, the chance of genuine friendships—the chance of a boyfriend.

  She glanced around. Some of the structures in town were still the way they’d been built over a hundred years ago: corrugated iron and hessian, although updated with modern conveniences, but Breakers Hotel was a proper, big, old-fashioned building. Brick and iron, single storey, with a wide verandah, its posts and slats painted a slick white. Something was happening at Breakers and men had spilled out onto the front verandah. There were a few businessmen in town this week, something to do with mining and the recent redundancies in the area, which might result in another mine closure and a further two hundred men and women out of work.

  She opened the post box and pulled out three envelopes. Two bank statements and one envelope from the Births, Deaths & Marriages registry in Perth. Each letter was addressed to Rebecca Smithfield. Was this her approval to change her name? Or had they rejected it? She couldn’t rip the letter open here in the street no matter how much she wanted to because there was no certainty about how she’d react if it was a rejection. She hooked the straps of her bag over her shoulder and, still holding the letters, closed and locked the post box.

  She looked down the street again, and stilled.

  Luke was at the end of High Street, talking to a young family. She couldn’t remember their names, but she knew them well enough to nod hello. They helped run the Indigenous art gallery. The woman pushed a stroller and had a dog on a lead tied to the handle. Luke bent and scratched the dog behind its ear, then peeked beneath the stroller hood and said something. The woman laughed, and Rachel’s heart did a somersault. Even from this distance he looked confident and protective.

  No other man had given her attention of the kind Luke had given her. Maybe it had filled her with the wrong sort of emotions: hope, and all that. She wasn’t unattractive, and she wasn’t inexperienced with men. Regardless of the abuse she’d lived with in her one year of marriage, she’d come through the following years with a kind of strength and had thought it her right to attempt a normal life—especially after the divorce. But after what Peter had done to that man in her flat, she’d known she couldn’t chance a relationship with any other man. Apart from one she’d been with for a short time so she could learn how to look after herself.

  She turned and didn’t have any choice but to stop because a hulk of a guy stood in front of her. He reeked of beer but didn’t look drunk. ‘Excuse me.’ She stepped to the side and he took hold of her arm.

  She tensed, shook it off, and he took it again. ‘She’s the shy type,’ he said over his shoulder.

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on that,’ Rachel said, then glanced around him, her body on alert, the muscle in her forearm bunched hard in his hold and the memory of Peter twisting the skin on her arm at the forefront of her mind.

  Another man stood to one side, watching. ‘Not that one,’ he said. ‘You dumb arse. Leave her.’

  ‘Let go,’ Rachel said. She pulled again but the guy tightened his grip.

  ‘Hey, I’m only saying hello. What the hell with the tone?’

  Rachel stared at him. ‘The tone?’ she asked, incredulous. ‘Let go of me.’

  He moved closer, not releasing her.

  ‘Come on,’ his mate said, stepping forwards. ‘I told you. Not this one.’

  The man holding her glared at her. ‘Don’t make a fuss in the street,’ he told her quietly. ‘I was just saying hello.’

  ‘You could have said that without taking hold of me
.’

  ‘Why don’t you come with us?’ he asked, tightening his grip.

  ‘We’re not supposed to do that,’ his mate said.

  Images of Peter and every injury he’d given her flashed in her mind in nightmarish images of grey and bruised red. Before she knew what she was doing, her temper rose and she’d lifted her free arm and slapped him. The sting flared on her palm.

  She was about to elbow him in his chest when he raised his arm—and terror rooted her to the spot.

  A big hand caught the man’s arm, and yanked it away from her. ‘You know, for a second there I thought you were actually going to throw a punch.’ Despite the droll humour in the words, the voice was full of power.

  Rachel blinked at Luke. How had he got here so quickly from the other end of the street?

  He hauled the heavier man around, holding his wrist to twist his arm behind his back. ‘Back off,’ he told the man’s mate. ‘Now.’

  The friend stepped back, rubbing his unshaven jaw, nervously looking around. A group of people were now staring.

  ‘It was nothing!’ the man who’d nearly thumped her said.

  ‘Calm down,’ Luke told him.

  Rachel stared, mesmerised by what she’d done. She put her empty hand out behind her and touched the wall of the post boxes, her letters still clutched in her other hand. The solid metal steadied her physically but her mind still reeled. She hadn’t been able to do it. She hadn’t been able to hit him the way she’d been taught.

  Luke now had the man on the ground, face down. He reached behind him and pulled cuffs from his belt.

  ‘All right, mate, I’m putting the cuffs on. Then I’m hauling you up. Any trouble and I’ll put you back down. Do you understand?’

  ‘It was nothing,’ the man said and struggled some more. ‘She’s making a fuss over nothing.’

  ‘I said calm down.’

  ‘Get off me!’

  ‘Take a breath then close your mouth,’ Luke said to him.

  Rachel stepped back.

  ‘Hi.’ Will Bennett gave her a quick nod then bent to assist. ‘You could have chosen a lighter one,’ he said to Luke.

  Luke laughed, but it held no amusement.

  They held an arm each and pulled them back. Will took the cuffs from Luke and placed them on the man’s wrists.

  ‘I’m doing my best to take it nice and easy,’ Luke said to the man, a warning in his voice. ‘You do the same and we’ll get on fine.’

  Luke and Will took hold of the man by his cuffed wrists and under his shoulder then lifted him to stand, and placed a hand on his underarms, locking his arms straight. The man was on his feet, but bent over, both arms high in the air behind him.

  The group of people standing around started muttering about what had happened, and were looking at Rachel. She backed away. She wanted to run to her car and drive home but that would bring more attention—and she had to go back to work. All she needed was a quiet moment somewhere. Away from this scene. Just five minutes.

  While the group of people shuffled out of the officers’ way as they took the man to the station, she slipped inside the café, welcoming the change in atmosphere.

  The café was empty. Nobody behind the counter. Maybe she could stand here for two minutes until she got herself under control, then leave. She breathed deeply, but it wasn’t deep enough because her lungs still felt empty, as though she’d been winded.

  ‘Hi.’

  She jumped, and turned to see Jax, the café owner, appear from the kitchens out the back. ‘I just wanted …’ To forget. She wanted to forget everything. All of it.

  ‘Well, this is the place for sustenance,’ Jax said. ‘If that’s what you wanted. Are you okay?’ she added with a frown.

  Rachel managed a smile. She’d met Jax, of course. She’d met many of Mt Maria’s residents, or at least seen many of them and heard about the others. She stepped up to the counter. ‘I’m fine. A bottle of water, please.’

  ‘It’s hot enough to warrant two bottles.’ Jax took a bottle of spring water out of the refrigerated cabinet behind her. ‘This one all right? It’s the cheapest, and I reckon it’s no different to the others. Unless you wanted sparkling.’

  ‘That one’s fine.’ She couldn’t swallow sparkling. She’d bubble up and burst.

  ‘Anything else?’

  Rachel glanced up at the blackboard and scanned the menu, hoping to find something she could ask for quickly. But the words blurred. ‘Maybe a cheese and salad sandwich,’ she said. ‘I forgot to bring something for lunch and didn’t have time to pop out and buy any.’ A lie, but she needed to ask for something or else she’d have to explain why she was standing in the café.

  ‘Too easy,’ Jax said. ‘White, wholegrain, sourdough or rye?’

  ‘Rye, please.’

  ‘You got it. I’ll just be a second. Keep the rye out back.’

  Jax headed for the kitchen, and Rachel sighed, her shoulders sagging. She left her bag on the counter and walked a few steps, facing a corner. She still held the letters. She scanned them quickly. Something about the feel of the letter from the registry still worried her. As though bad news was in her hands. She closed her eyes and counted slowly, breathing with each beat. It was chilly in the café. The air conditioner thumped, as though someone had put a spanner in its works. Music from a radio flared in her head. She hadn’t noticed it before.

  ‘Everything all right?’

  At the sound of Luke’s voice she spun round, still clutching her mail.

  Concern showed in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘He’s locked up for the moment.’

  She moved her gaze to his shirt sleeve then closed her eyes, unable to look at the badge he was so proud to wear on his arm.

  ‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said. ‘But I need to check that you’re all right.’

  She stared up at his face and into his dark brown eyes again.

  ‘Do you want to take it further?’ he asked. ‘I suggest you do. I can attest he was about to assault you.’

  She shook her head. ‘No trouble.’

  ‘What?’ he asked, leaning down to her, as though he hadn’t heard her.

  ‘No,’ she managed, a little louder.

  ‘You don’t want to or you’re frightened to?’ His face had a keen look now. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  She shook her head again, worry building. ‘No.’

  He straightened. ‘Okay,’ he said in a softened, placatory tone. ‘Everything’s all right now. You can take a breath.’

  It wasn’t all right. It was horrible all over again. But if she could concentrate for a moment longer, she’d find her breath. She’d find something to say. She peered into his eyes, waiting for him to speak again, waiting for the panic to leave her. But the moment went on for longer than she’d intended—and she got lost in him. Just by looking into his eyes. Just by the sudden silence in her head, as though she’d been shrouded with quietness. Her body relaxed, her fingers loosened their grip on her letters. Time was spinning. She felt like she was hypnotised.

  He held her gaze, losing his frown. She imagined both their breathing and their heartbeats were synchronising. There was nothing either of them could say. Not through this extraordinary moment of connection.

  He lowered his head and she raised her face, as though in a dream. She couldn’t hear the air conditioner. The music faded. The envelopes slipped from her fingers and she closed her eyes when his mouth touched hers.

  She kissed him as he kissed her. Mouth only slightly parted. No pressure. A touch, like a warm hand on her shoulder. Comforting. She forgot who she was and who she’d been. She forgot everything bad as she tasted his kiss. She pressed a little firmer, moving into him, wanting more comfort.

  He released her, and took her arms, holding her back. His eyes were dark and his body frozen in place. ‘I didn’t expect that …’ His voice was so low the energy of it thrummed through her. ‘I’m sorry.’ He let her go, dragged his eyes off hers and onto the floor. ‘Tha
t shouldn’t have happened.’ He bent to pick up the letters at her feet.

  Rachel forced herself to inhale.

  The door opened and footsteps and chatter invaded their world. Jax called out from the kitchen. The sound of the radio returned, and the aircon thumped.

  Luke looked down at his hands.

  Rachel snatched the letters from him. She held them at her side, so he wouldn’t get a chance to see who they’d been addressed to.

  He stepped back, lifting his hands, but not so high as to be noticeable and draw attention from the group now at the counter. ‘All right?’ he asked.

  She nodded, then shook her head and closed her eyes for a second. ‘Sorry. Caught me off guard.’ It was true in more ways than one. She hadn’t expected a kiss to happen—certainly not here, not this moment. But with that oaf outside, and now kissing Luke, she’d forgotten who she was: Rachel Meade. In hiding. Her face flooded with heat and for once she was glad of it. ‘I meant—you caught me unaware.’

  ‘Me too.’ He scanned her face and her throat. He’d think her flushed from the kiss. He’d think her hasty, jumpy actions a result of being flustered from the kiss. He couldn’t be further from the truth. His kiss had knocked the panic out of her and set her cruising down an unfamiliar road of relief, bordering on a sense of deep security. That’s why she’d leaned in to him. But he’d pulled from her. Just as well, because if he hadn’t released her, she might have thrown herself against his body, wanting his arms around her and the sense of his protection to overwhelm her.

  She walked past him, picked up her shoulder bag and stuffed the letters deep into the base before pulling out her purse.

  ‘Cheese and salad on rye,’ Jax said with a smile as she handed Rachel a wrapped and bagged sandwich.

  ‘That’s great.’ She handed two five-dollar notes over. ‘I don’t need the change.’

  ‘My pleasure. And thanks.’ Jax put the money into the till, took out two gold coins and dropped them in the tip jar on the counter. ‘Come in again soon and grab a coffee. On me.’

  Rachel smiled. ‘Thanks.’ She should have come into Jax’s café before now. She’d been in once, her first week, but it had been crowded and she hadn’t wanted to be around so many people. She turned to leave, dithering as to whether or not she ought to say goodbye to Luke, and if their conversation—and their extraordinary moment—had ended.